Linger
by Collie Parkillo
Summary: "We never really get out of high school, do we?" Archie, Obie, and growing up.


_"You know I'm such a fool for you,_  
><em>You got me wrapped around your finger,<em>  
><em>Do you have to let it linger, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?"<em>

_- "Linger", The Cranberries_

* * *

><p>Trinity School looked a lot different when you were twenty-five.<p>

"The look on the headmaster's face when you told him your name was priceless," Obie said, snickering to the blond boy sitting beside him on the bleachers. "Archie Costello, Visiting Alumn. Former Terror of the Student Body is more like it."

Archie laughed. "It's a pity Leon isn't still around."

If Leon had been, he probably would have been shocked at how seven years could change people. Of course, Obie wouldn't have told him everything, he had no desire to catch up with Brother Leon, but the fact that Obie was a bar-approved lawyer now probably would have been enough to shock anyone who'd known him when he was seventeen.

The thing that probably would have surprised Leon most would have been Archie Costello with a master's degree in philosophy doing odd jobs like grocery bagging. Leon would probably have thought it would have been the other way around. Hell, Obie would have thought the same.

"The football team's good. Better than the one we had." The field was empty now, and the sun was beginning to set so the lights had flickered on, bathing it in white light. "Say, whatever happened to Carter?"

"I never bothered to find out," Archie said. "I wonder if he still has that gavel."

"Speaking of gavels, isn't it crazy that The Vigils are fuckin' Model UN now? How did that happen?"

"Another thing I didn't bother to find out."

"The Vigils were useless without you, Archie, I hope you know that."

"Why, I would never have been able to do it without you, Obie, dear." He gave Obie a thin, weasel smile that showed that he was kidding. Or at least, he thought he was kidding.

"You flatter me."

Looking at that field, Obie suddenly felt like he was an eighteen year old Vigils errand boy again. A boy who thought he'd marry his girl Laurie, and who hated the guy now sitting next to him with the fire of a thousand suns. And for awhile, it'd stayed like that. What Obie had begun to realize was that when God, if He existed, had been putting the universe together, he'd picked up two little human souls and stuck them together with some kind of heavenly glue and said "Archie Costello and Obie Duschain are never gonna be able to get away from each other."

They sat there silently, and for the first time in awhile, Obie wondered what exactly they were. It felt weird to call Archie a friend. Their relationship was different than that of friends, yet it wasn't quite enemies either. And then there was the alternative of lovers-he'd had a string of girlfriends over the past couple years but none for very long. He just found he wasn't interested in them anymore. Relationships came and went. Marriage was just one big date. What was the use if none of it would last? Nothing, he thought, would really last, except him and Archie.

"Obie, I got you a present."

"The great Archie Costello is giving presents. Gee, what is this world coming to?"

"I'm hurt, Obie, I'm hurt," he said petulantly, and fished around in his messenger bag for a small, plastic bag with the Barnes & Noble logo on it. "I even had it gift-wrapped."

Obie tore through the green paper on the present, which was surely a book. Either that or a really thick, heavy chocolate bar. Which would have been hilarious, but he was mostly joking to himself when he thought that.

The first thing he said when he looked at what was inside was "You've got to be shitting me."

"My thoughts exactly."

The cover had a school that looked a little like Trinity but was different enough to not warrant a lawsuit. _Terror of the Elite: Social Violence in America's Private Schools _was written in large, red, Times New Roman font across the bottom. The name on top in the same font was Jerome Renault.

Obie couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. Archie was laughing, too.

"I think Trinity's going to sue. You should be their lawyer," Archie gasped, still shaking from laughter a little.

"I'm a criminal lawyer, not a civil lawyer, but god, I wish."

"Here, I think you'll like this." Archie flipped through the book to a page with the heading "Types of Bullies." There were four sections: The Leader, The Stooge, The Pack, and The Bystander. "Let me read to you. _The Stooge is, in some cases, even more cowardly than The Bystander. He knows what he's doing is wrong most of the time, but he goes along anyways because he likes the power that comes with being the second in command. He does odd jobs for The Leader and is in a higher position that The Pack but often fancies himself more important than he really is." _There was more, but that paragraph was enough to send Obie into a hoot of laughter.

"Gee, if I wasn't such a nice guy, I'd sue Renault myself."

"He calls the leader the biggest coward of them all."

"Well, even if we are laughing, he's not wrong. Man, Archie, we did some…we did some bad things. You did some bad things."

"I have to wonder where it all started. I often ponder who it was who was really at fault in this school. Was it Leon? Was it myself? Was it Renault, even?"

"Isn't Renault barely in college? How the hell is his book a New York Times bestseller?"

"He's very talented, apparently." Obie looked up at the Trinity clock tower. It was nearly seven. Archie seemed to read his actions and said, "We ought to get home. Wouldn't want you to be exhausted at the firm tomorrow."

"Hey, Archie, do you remember that time when you and I were sitting here, and you said you didn't want me to miss my job at the store so you'd let me off my errand work early? I mean, you were lying, but still. We haven't changed much, have we?"

"Do you miss it?" No "you miss it, don't you?", Archie's classic form of question. It was like he genuinely wanted to know.

Obie remembered four years ago when Archie had showed up at his door, saying that he didn't have an apartment now and he needed to stay with somebody, and Obie had yelled "Get your brain out of high school, you fucking baby! I'm sick of picking up all of your shit, I'm not your errand boy anymore, I'm a fucking law student and I actually have a future! Leave me alone, you bastard!" And he'd shut the door in his face.

He'd felt great, then terrible, then great again, then terrible. Eventually he'd called Archie. Said he was sorry. Archie had said he didn't need to be. Archie had taken the guest room in his apartment and refused to do any chores, which pissed Obie off but at least Archie would eat basically anything so he never objected to Obie's shitty microwaved ramen.

It was weird being friends after what was basically a murder attempt and years of being essentially master and slave. But here they were. Back at Trinity. Back at the hellhole they'd grown up in.

"I don't think I was ever really able to get away from it the way I always wanted to. But maybe it was better that way. Staying and working things out, you know?"

"I know."

"We never really get out high school, do we?"

"In a matter of things, I suppose we don't."


End file.
